Chloe Sullivan Walked In
by BlueSuedeShoes
Summary: As if on cue, as if God had been waiting for the exact moment he made up his mind in order to put his resolve to the test, Chloe Sullivan walked in.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Comment: Before anyone freaks out at the end of this, there will be at least one other chapter.**

**BlueSuedeShoes**

--1--

This...this was why women were stupid, Oliver thought. They whine about men being afraid of commitment, about guys not wanting serious relationships, about not being treated like they matter, and yet, along come girls like Chloe, girls who supposedly don't want any "strings" attached. Oh, the irony. He spends half his adult life wanting little more than good liquor and one-night-stands that disappear come morning, but when he finally meets a girl he might actually like to--heaven forbid--settle down with, _she's_ suddenly the one who's holding up a huge red stop sign.

He rubbed his forehead in frustration, staring at the ceiling of his bedroom. He knew he should get up, should _do_ something. It didn't have to be something important, just so long as it was something. He made a frustrated sound, realizing what she was doing to him. He'd laid awake almost all night, thinking about why she wouldn't want a serious relationship with him. He had come up short. He knew she was still in a very defensive state after all that had happened to her in the last couple of years, but surely the fact that she was even involved with him meant that she was getting past that, at least as much as she ever would. So what was it? Did she not trust him? She'd been around long enough to see the best and the worst of him when it came to women. She'd seen him treat women like a means to an end, arm candy and bed mates and little more. On the other hand, she'd seen him with Lois, seen how badly he'd wanted to make that work. Maybe it was the very fact that Lois was her cousin--but no, Lois had more or less volunteered to plan their wedding when she found out they were..._not_ dating, or whatever the hell this was.

Maybe that was the problem. There had never been an in between for him before. Either he was in a committed relationship or he wouldn't even be expected to remember the girl's name the next morning. Since when did he do the friends with benefits thing?

Never. That's when. It was a stupid idea. Oddly enough, he'd always thought it would be stupid because he had assumed the girl would get too attached or expect more than he could give. He'd figure he'd end up alienating a good friend and getting himself into all kinds of trouble. It had never occurred to him that _he_ would be the one getting too attached.

Dear God, Chloe was wearing the pants in the relationship. Well, that had to stop immediately.

He chuckled to himself at the idea that Chloe was in charge. It wasn't that absurd, all things considered. He hadn't been emasculated or anything. It was just that she was a control freak.

But what to do, he wondered as he finally pushed himself off of his bed with a groan. He scratched his head wearily, looking around his apartment.

Yoga or target practice? It had to be one of the two because they were the only things that would cool the adrenaline he was dealing with. He was antsy.

...how pathetic.

It was just that this situation was really bothering him, he thought, picking up his bow and fitting it with an arrow. His mind had been reeling ever since their less-than-magnificent weekend together at that bed and breakfast. He couldn't stop thinking about the fact that Chloe seriously didn't want an actual relationship.

It _bothered_ him.

He wanted to demand a reason, to demand to know what was wrong with actually dating him, but he stopped himself, knowing that he'd only push her away. She would just end up shutting herself up in that little imaginary fortress of hers and he'd lose her altogether.

Was it worth messing with? Maybe he should just take what he was given without questioning it and be grateful. Maybe half-way with Chloe was better than not at all.

But he was Oliver Queen, damn it! Since when did he compromise? It was all or nothing. No prisoners!

He shook his head, fitting a fourth arrow. He was in so far over his head. He lifted the bow to take aim and struck another bull's-eye.

Well, he thought, as long as he was the woman in their relationship, what would a woman _do_ in this situation?

He chuckled, thinking of Lois. The woman would give an ultimatum.

Would that work? Possibly. Or it would backfire magnificently. He let another arrow fly. The question was whether it was worth taking the chance. Immediately he thought yes, of course it was. Chloe was absolutely worth the risk. Then he realized he was risking _losing_ her, not keeping her.

Nothing was worth losing Chloe over, but then he had to realize that the way they were headed, there was no way he couldn't lose her. If not today, then another day. Someone else would come along and she'd end it with him, or she'd realize she couldn't keep it up anymore and she'd end it with him, or she'd get jealous somehow and she'd end it with him. No matter which way he looked at it, eventually it would all come to an end.

So...ultimatum it was.

As if on cue, as if God had been waiting for the exact moment he made up his mind in order to put his resolve to the test, Chloe Sullivan walked in.

He let the last arrow fly before gritting his teeth and turning to her.

"Hey there," she said, dropping her purse on the counter. "What are you up to this morning?"

"Not a lot," he said with a sigh. "You?"

"Nothing here either," she grinned, walking over to him. "It's been a slow week overall." She stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, but pulled away quickly, a frown on her face. "What's wrong?" she asked.

He fought the urge to roll his eyes. It had taken her--what?--ten seconds total to realize something was on his mind? There was no point having secrets when Chloe was around.

So, rather than try to pretend things were fine, he gritted his teeth and charged right ahead. "We need to talk," he told her, searching her eyes.

She pulled out of his arms, a frown flickering across her face. "Well that sounds serious," she joked humorlessly.

He nodded. "I don't like this."

She waited, but he wasn't quick enough to continue. "Don't like what?"

"This," he said, gesturing ridiculously between them.

Chloe shook her head, chuckling. "Meaning?"

He took a breath, trying to sort through the words in his head. "I don't like that we're just fooling around."

She looked startled. "Oh."

"I mean I want more than that," he said quickly, before she could get the wrong idea.

She stared at him. Then, slowly, "Oh."

He didn't like the sound of that. That was her "time to get the hell out of Dodge" voice. "But you don't," he confirmed for her with a nod.

Chloe looked away from him in a noncommittal gesture, but said nothing. So, he walked over to her and slipped his hands over her hips in encouragement.

"Would it really be that bad?" he asked, trying to get her to meet his eyes.

She shook her head warily. "I'm sorry, Oliver."

It felt like a hot knife slowly slicing its way through his chest. A slow, sharp, searing pain. He let her go. "Why not?"

She shook her head, going for her purse, but he stopped her, grabbing her arm to make her face him. Her face was impassive. She looked him calmly in the eye. "Because I can't."

"Why not?" he demanded again, feeling his desperation growing. "I'm not saying we have to walk down the aisle. I'm just saying I want more than what we're doing."

"Oliver," she pleaded, "just let me go."

"No. Not until you give me a real reason."

"Why don't you give me a real reason why you want more?" she shot back. "Things have been fine from where I'm standing."

She had him there. Why did he want more? He just knew he couldn't live with things the way they were. "Honestly?" he said finally, "Because this feels wrong. I don't like that you've become this ambiguous part of my life and frankly, you deserve better than this, Chloe. This isn't you."

She pulled back from him. "Maybe I've changed."

He shook his head. "Something's never change. And you will always deserve better than this, Chloe. Even you must know that on some level."

She backed away from him but he pursued. "Oliver, please. Just let me go."

"Why? Why should I?"

"Because you want more!" she shouted suddenly, "and I haven't got anything to give you all right?" Tears suddenly formed in her eyes and Oliver stood in shock, too surprised to chase after her as she grabbed her purse and ran from the room.

"Damn," was the only word he could manage once she was long gone.


	2. Chapter 2

--2--

"Ollie!"

Oliver swore mentally. It had been three days, and he'd been expecting this any time now.

"Ollie!" came the sound of Lois's angry voice yet again.

He closed his eyes. Maybe if he ignored her, she'd go away.

Instead she just entered his room.

"Oh, there you are," she said. "Ollie, would you like to explain to me what you've done?"

He opened his eyes to look at her. "Lois, I'm trying to meditate. Go away."

"No," she said flatly.

"Why not?" he asked grumpily. There went all the progress he'd made in relieving the tension in his back.

"Because I demand to know what you've done to my cousin."

Giving up all pretense, he stood up and went to grab a T-shirt. "What _I've _done to her?" he asked. "Really, Lois?"

"Yeah. For the past couple of days, I have seen her get increasingly short-tempered and work-obsessed. I followed the bread crumbs and it all leads back to one thing: Oliver Queen. What happened? Chloe suddenly decide she wasn't up for the whole 'friends with benefits' thing and you couldn't step up? Huh?"

Oliver turned to send her a burning glare.

"The opposite, actually."

Lois looked startled. "What?"

"She broke it off with me because I said I wanted a relationship."

"You...what?"

Oliver rolled his eyes. "Don't make me say it again."

Lois sat down in his armchair, still stunned. "I don't believe it."

"Believe it," he said wryly, as if he weren't having enough trouble believing it himself. At no point in his life had he ever expected anything remotely like this to happen.

"And you..." Lois gaped at him, confused. "You're..."

"Not face down in the gutter?" he suggested, lightly.

Lois looked at him through narrowed eyes. "You're doing yoga?"

"Meditating."

"How exactly does that pertain to winning my cousin back?"

He shot her another look. "It doesn't."

She rose, and Oliver felt a storm a la Lane coming on. He went to the kitchen to get a drink. "You're not doing anything?" she demanded angrily.

Oliver smirked to himself, preparing to predict everything she had to say. Next: Well, what's wrong with you?

"What the hell is wrong with you, Oliver?"

Yep. Now: A shot at his manhood.

"What kind of a pitiful coward are you? You don't mind fighting crime, but heaven forbid you put something other than your life on the line."

Uh huh. Next would come the guilt card. Probably involving something about how miserable Chloe was.

"Do you have any idea what you've been putting Chloe through? She's gone off the deep end, Ollie! She's barely slept lately. Why on earth aren't you doing anything about this?"

Some sort of call to be a hero, now.

"I mean, come on. You know what Chloe's been through. She's been hurt badly. You can't just sit by and let her shut herself away from the rest of the world. You've got to know she wants this. She's just too scared to admit it. You're the hero! Rescue her or whatever it is you do!"

That should be about it, he thought. He opened his mouth to send her away, but before he could get a word out, she cut him off.

"I can't believe you're not fighting for her," she said quietly.

Oliver stared, unsure how to respond.

"Ollie," she pleaded. "I've seen the way you two look at each other. Why are you just sitting around?"

That wasn't fair. "Look, Lois," he ground out angrily. "_Chloe_ shot _me _down. _She_ sent _me_ away. _She_ said _she_ didn't want _me_. Why don't you go chew out her?"

"Because Chloe doesn't listen; you do!...occasionally," she added with a trace of a smile.

He rolled his eyes. "Go home, Lois."

But Lois shook her head, standing up. "You're pretty thick, you know. You spent all that time chasing after me and now your giving up on Chloe just like that."

Oliver rounded on her angrily. "Get out," he said firmly. He ignored the hurt look that flashed across her eyes. He didn't need to hear about all the time he'd wasted pining for her. That wasn't going to help anything. He watched coldly as Lois backed away a couple of steps before turning to go.

"Fine!" she shouted on her way out. "Maybe you don't deserve her then!"

If she'd been at arms length, Oliver was fairly certain he would have hit her, woman or no.

When he heard the door to the lift shut he reached for the nearest thing he could find to wrap his hand around, an empty scotch glass in this case, and hurled it at the wall, closing his eyes to better appreciate its satisfying shatter.

What did Lois think he was doing? Sitting around feeling sorry for himself? Chloe said she didn't have anything more to give him. What more could he do? He wasn't going to plague her by refusing to leave her alone. If she didn't care about him that way, then that was simply all there was to it.

He walked over to the couch and collapsed on it, grumbling to himself about the things Lois had said.

_I've seen the way you two look at each other_.

For the love of--that was just Lois seeing what she wanted to see, as usual. For a reporter, she could be pretty oblivious to the facts. Really, if she was so dead set on seeing them together, why didn't she go talk to Chloe? He'd done his part. The ball was in Chloe's court now.

* * *

Chloe stifled a yawn. She'd been up almost all night. Again.

She couldn't sleep if she tried, and she wasn't even sure she wanted to try, knowing she'd probably just end up dreaming about him.

She hated him. That was all there was to it. She hated him for ruining everything. Why couldn't he just keep things the way they were? It had been so easy and so simple the way they'd been going, but he had to go and complicate it all.

She shuddered at the thought of the look on his face when she'd said she had nothing to give him. It had been like...like...like seeing something _die_. She felt like a murderer and it was all his fault.

She'd warned him from the beginning, warned him to keep strings out of the picture because they were just supposed to be having fun. It wasn't supposed to go beyond that. It had never occurred to her that it would. The idea of Oliver Queen wanting a relationship with her had always been absurd to her. She'd never even considered it. Why would he want her when he had his choice of just about every woman on the face of the planet?

He'd lost his mind. It was the only explanation. Why did it have to go so far? Over and over again she told herself no. She couldn't do that, not again. She couldn't love anyone again. Her heart had been mutilated beyond repair and there was nothing left to offer.

Chloe let out a cry of frustration and dropped to the floor where she was standing.

"Well that doesn't sound good," came the sound of a familiar voice.

Chloe looked to the doorway embarrassedly. "Hi, Clark."

"Hi," he said, amused. "What's wrong?"

Chloe groaned and laid back on the floor again. "Do you have a decade?"

"For you? I've got two," he smiled, sitting down next to her. Chloe was irresistibly reminded of times when they had sat like this in the Kent Barn. "What's up, Chloe?"

Chloe leaned her head on his shoulder. "I screwed up."

"Oh?"

"Pretty badly."

"What happened?"

"You know how Oliver and I--" she felt Clark shift uncomfortably and smiled slightly "--how we were together but not actually together?"

Clark rolled his eyes. "Uh huh?"

"We're officially not together in any sense of the word."

"Oh."

Chloe sighed. Thank you, farm boy. What an insightful response. And yet, she smiled, strangely comforting in its own Clark-esque way. "Yeah," she said. "Oh."

"So, Oliver ended it, huh?"

Chloe's head snapped up. "I beg your pardon?"

Clark looked at her with a confused expression. "What?"

"Who said _he_ ended it? Am I that undesirable?" she demanded.

Clark moved away automatically in self-defense. "No, I just--"

"You just assumed that Oliver wouldn't want me around for long."

"No," Clark stopped her. "I assumed that Oliver would run away before long. It's got nothing to do with you. He just has a poor history with women."

Chloe glared.

"And he's out of his mind, of course," Clark added hastily.

Chloe sighed, leaning back on her hands. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean to snap. The thing is, Oliver didn't end it. I did."

"I thought you liked things the way they were...however convoluted."

"It wasn't convoluted. It was simple. And I did...like it, I mean."

Clark raised his eyebrows, more lost than ever. "Then what--"

"Oliver! That's what!"

"Did he see someone else?"

"No! He--" Chloe stopped, suddenly realizing how absurd what she was about to say actually sounded. "He--"

"He what?"

Chloe swallowed. "He wanted more."

"More what?" Clark frowned, completely lost.

Chloe rolled her eyes. "More than friends with benefits."

Clark stared. "And you..." he trailed off.

"Don't."

There was a weighty pause followed by, "Oh." They sat there for a moment before Clark finally bit. "Why not?"

Chloe considered not telling him. She wasn't really sure she wanted to talk about it, but there was Clark with those big, innocent blue eyes, and for whatever reason, she would forever be spilling her guts to those eyes.

"Because I don't think I can handle it."

"Why not?"

"Because I--I don't feel whole anymore, Clark. Something's inherently wrong with me and I just can't do that again. I can't give any more of myself away because if I do, then I'll completely fall to pieces. I'm barely holding it together as it is," she choked out, her sight blurring over with tears.

"Oh, Chloe," Clark soothed, pulling her into one of his warm, comfortingly suffocating embraces. Wearily, Chloe snuggled into his chest, letting the tears fall for the first time. He rubbed her back and rested a hand on the back of her head. "Chloe, it'll be okay."

"I should never have let this happen, Clark. I should have trusted my instincts. I knew this was a bad idea but I thought it would be okay. You should have seen the way he looked at me. It was like I was the most horrible person in the world."

"Hey," Clark shushed, "I sincerely doubt Oliver thinks that."

"Yes he does," Chloe sobbed.

"Chloe, Oliver couldn't think that of you if he tried. No one could."

Chloe begged to differ. Clark hadn't seen the way Jimmy had looked at her that fateful day in the hospital when he'd told her marrying her was the worst mistake of his life. Or the look on Davis' face when he realized she'd only gone with him to save Clark.

And that same look had appeared on Oliver's face. Was she destined to earn nothing but misery out of life? To _cause_ nothing but misery?

"Look, Lois sent me over because she said she's been worried about you. She says she talked to Oliver--"

Chloe choked.

"--and she thinks he's just being stubborn. He'll cool off in time and then you two can figure things out."

"What's there to figure, Clark? He wants a relationship--of all the unseen plot-twists--and I want to crawl in a hole and die."

Clark squeezed her. "Come on, why don't we go get you some coffee. That will make you feel better. Things will look brighter."

But to his surprise, Chloe shook her head at the offer. "I don't think I should. I haven't slept in days."

Clark chuckled. "Decaf, then. And then bed."

Chloe nodded.


	3. Chapter 3

--3--

It had been four weeks, three days, seven hours and twenty-one seconds since Chloe Sullivan had walked out of his life, Oliver thought, staring at the clock and calculating.

Of course, the statement wasn't entirely accurate. She was still in his life...weirdly. She was still Watchtower and he was still the Green Arrow, and so, by necessity, they had had to see each other and talk to each other.

He was grateful that she wasn't making it awkward. She was just business as usual. But it still hurt to look at her, to see her day after day: the woman who didn't want him. Things had become strangely formal between them, and it bothered him no end. He'd gone from free reign over every inch of her body to practically having to sit on his hands when he was in the same room as her. He was constantly fighting simple urges to play with her fingers, rub her shoulders, brush the hair out of her face.

He was a sick, pathetic man, he thought in exhaustion, watching her at the computer across the room. How in God's name he was supposed to go on like this for the rest of his life, he didn't know, but at least he got to see her, to hear her talk and even occasionally laugh. At least he got to know she was doing okay, with or without him.

He hadn't brought up their conversation once, and neither had she. By now, even Lois had given up on trying to force the two of them to 'reconcile.'

It was easier when the others were there. The JL provided distraction and made the atmosphere lighter and easier to deal with. Everyone careful tiptoed around any conversation that pertained to the sudden change in attitude Oliver and Chloe had undergone toward each other, for which Oliver was also grateful. The sharp pain that had felt like a hot knife in the beginning had softened to a dull ache, and Oliver assumed that eventually it would go away altogether. He could only pray that it would.

He found himself watching her, though. Wondering what it was about him that she didn't want. He'd never dealt with her brand of rejection before and it was hard on him. Why had he not been worth it to her?

He shook his head, looking away for the millionth time that day, thankful that he didn't have to keep up much conversation since Bart, Victor, AC, and Dinah were all there. They were preparing for various assignments throughout the next week which would once again have them all scattered across the globe. He hope vaguely that Chloe would send him to Antarctica. Cold would be nice.

She didn't. She kept him in Metropolis. There were rumors of an under-the-table weapons dealer in town that she wanted him to take care of.

* * *

Chloe settled in for the evening, bracing herself for a long night. She was in pajama pants and a tank, a blanket tossed over her shoulders for warmth and a mug of hot coffee in her hand. Her laptop before her, she listened to the voices at the other end of the communicator, reporting to her their various progresses and setbacks. AC was dealing with a hurricane off the coast of the Yucatan Peninsula. Victor was investigating a series of inexplicable security breaches in the Swedish banking networks, Bart was to see to the repairs of some train tracks in Russia that were in bad shape and really shouldn't be operating at all (with the knowledge that Clark could sweep in with super strength if necessary), and Oliver was covering the illegal weapons' dealers in their very own Metropolis.

Things began well enough, with few complications. Victor was the first to complete his assignment, e-mailing Chloe all the information she needed to report the cyber-crooks. AC would be tied up for the next couple of weeks with repairs, naturally, but for the next couple of hours he was helping evacuate the cities along the coast. Bart didn't have much hard work to worry about unless a train came along, but he would probably be at it most of the night. Oliver was the one she was on the communicator for, though. He would be the most likely to need her help.

And, indeed, long after the others had signed off for the night, she was still receiving feedback from Oliver. It had taken them a while to locate the necessary target, and then Oliver had had to tail the idiot, who took much longer than either of them expected to actually get to the designated meeting place. After that Oliver was silent as both he and Chloe listened in on the conversation, trying to ascertain how big of an operation they were looking at and how professional these guys were.

Chloe couldn't help but sigh, sipping her coffee for comfort. She hated the way things were with Oliver. Once upon a time there would have been easy banter on the communicators. Oliver would have made an inappropriate joke and she would have tried and failed not to laugh. Or they would have just poked fun at each other until the situation demanded seriousness. Everything with him had become so formal and contrived now, like they were merely acquaintances.

She wished she could go back in time and take back the entire decision to start something with Ollie. She missed their comfortable friendship. She missed _him_, much as she hated to admit it to herself. Things between them had always come so naturally, and now...nothing was the same. She sighed, shaking her head and glancing at the clock. One in the morning.

She'd started sleeping better since the day she spoke with Clark, but really she still didn't feel right. She was plagued with restlessness and strange dreams that woke her in the middle of the night only for her to not remember what they had been about in the first place.

It was as she was thinking this that it happened.

"Problem."

"What?"

"I've been--" the Green Arrow's voice cut off and there was the sound of a struggle.

Chloe jumped up, nearly spilling her coffee.

"Arrow? What's going on over there?"

There was no response. Chloe listened desperately, trying to hear what was going on at the other end. She was posed to call Clark at a moment's notice, but there was a possibility that Oliver simply wasn't responding because he didn't want to be overheard.

"Arrow? Are you there?"

Nothing, and then suddenly: gunfire. Chloe clutched her heart in frozen horror. Then relief washed over her, if only for the moment, when she heard his voice again.

"Watchtower, I've been compromised. I'm making a run for it."

"No problem, Arrow," she said instantly, sounding calmer than she felt, "We'll get you out of there."

There was the sound of more gunfire in the background and she wanted to vomit. What had she gotten him into? She hadn't thought the situation would require any kind of backup.

"Do you need me to call Boy Scout?"

"Nothing he can do," Oliver spat, and she heard the sound of his motorcycle coming to life.

"Can you lose them?"

"Going to have to, aren't I?" he joked. Chloe rolled her eyes. How he could make light of any situation, no matter how serious, was beyond her.

"How close are they?" she asked, and she heard the sound of another gunshot. Oliver let out a cry of pain.

"Close," he ground out.

Chloe panicked. "Are you hit? What's going on over there?"

"I'm heading back for my place. I'll try to lose them on the way."

"Don't you dare, Arrow. The last thing we need is for them to realize you were headed in that direction. Take a turn down Eisenhower and then a sharp left into the alley. That should buy you some time," she instructed, her finger running along the map of the city and the small, blinking dot that represented Oliver.

"Got it," his voice sounded tight, like he was in pain.

She waited, watching for the moment he turned into the alley. "Did it work?" she asked anxiously when she saw him round the bend.

"Not sure, I think--" his voice cut off and she heard a muffled, clattering sound before their connection broke.

"Arrow?" she asked, heart pounding.

Silence.

"Arrow!"


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: So, I had this interesting discovery this week: I am a cliched tortured artist. Every time I'm in a foul mood, it shows up in my writing. I was in the middle of this story this week before I took a step back and thought, "Oh my God, this is **_**depressing...**_**"**

**Fortunately, I am adamant about happy endings. At least for short stories like this.**

**BlueSuedeShoes**

--4--

Chloe stared in blind panic at the computer screen before her, the dot that was Green Arrow had vanished off the screen, indicating that something must have happened to his communicator. She wasn't sure what to do. Should she call Clark? Oliver had said not to. And the broken intercom didn't necessarily mean that something had happened to him. He might still be all right.

She was about to call in Bart instead, knowing that he at least would follow her orders, unlike Clark. She would send him in to scope at the situation and report back to her, _not_ try to fix it immediately like Clark would.

Minutes that felt like hours later, Chloe was about to contact Bart when Oliver Queen stumbled in, soaked in blood, clutching a broken communicator in one hand, and his stomach in the other.

"Oh my god." The words became their own entity, ringing in the room as Chloe rushed to his side, catching him before he could fall over. He steadied himself on the counter and she rushed to grab a towel, pressing it to his side. He cringed. How much blood had he lost?

"Calm down, Sidekick. I've had worse."

She ignored him. She couldn't bear this, seeing him covered in blood. "Ollie, I'm so sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have sent you in there alone. I don't know what I--"

"Don't worry about it," he said through gritted teeth, "Neither of us thought this would go south. And I'm fine. Really," he said, startling her by placing his hand over hers where she held the towel in place. He seemed to realize his mistake and removed his hand almost instantly, leaving Chloe feeling strange and uncomfortable.

"Just--just hold that there. I'll call Emil," she told him, grabbing his hand and placing it back on the towel so that she could get to the phone.

"Don't call Emil," he told her. "No point. Just get the first aid kit. I'll bandage it myself."

"You will not," she argued. "I want that properly looked at. The last thing we need is for you to pass out from blood loss or to realize that it pierced a vital organ or something."

"I won't and it didn't. It's not that bad. I'm perfectly capable of taking care of it," he told her firmly.

"Oliver!" she nearly yelled. "Stop being thick. We're having that looked at. That bullet went clean through you!"

"Yeah, as in no bullet to remove. All I need is some alcohol, gauze, and bandaging tape."

"Well I'm not taking that risk!" she snapped.

He stared at her. Then after a long, strained silence, he said through gritted teeth, "Yes you are. Get over it. I can make my own decisions." She stood stunned until he brushed past her to find the first aid supplies.

She rounded on him. "I thought you _died_, Ollie. I had visions of you lying dead in a pool of blood in that blasted alley I sent you down. So don't tell me to get over it," she choked out.

Oliver turned to look at her, shocked.

"Go sit down right now. You'll get your way. I won't call Emil, but I won't have you traipsing around this room, just weakening yourself even more."

He didn't move.

"Sit!" she yelled.

Oliver moved for the couch, wincing in pain as he attempted to sit down.

Chloe attained the supplies and went to kneel beside him. She carefully removed his tunic as gently as possible. Softly, she took a wet rag to the wound, cleaning the area around it as best as she could in order to see what she was dealing with.

She breathed a sigh of relief, recognizing that it really hadn't been a good shot. A breath to the side and he would only have been grazed. She didn't give Oliver a chance to brace himself before cleaning it with an alcohol soaked rag. He yelled in shock but she held him steady, knowing it was easier this way. She didn't apologize, just silently went on with her work. She layered more and more gauze over the wound, pressing as hard as she could, willing it to stop bleeding until finally she succeeded She moved his hand, indicating for him to continue holding the gauze in place. She pulled him forward in his seat slightly before beginning to wrap the bandage around him, going through a roll and a half.

She tried to tend him without thinking. She forced it to be a mindless, robotic activity because she hadn't been in this proximity to him in over a month, and touching his skin and feeling his eyes on her was maddening. She wished he'd stop. The longer he looked at her, the hotter her face seemed to grow. When her hands finally stopped moving, no occupation left for them, he spoke.

"Chloe--"

"You need to eat something and drink some water," she interrupted, abruptly jumping up and heading to the fridge.

"Chloe," he repeated, standing up to move after her. Then he moaned and clapped a hand over his mouth.

"You feel nauseous from the loss of blood. You're dehydrated, so sit back down," she told him. He probably knew all of that, but he didn't say anything, just followed her orders, groaning as he sat back down.

She brought him a bottle of water and a bag of chips. "Here."

He took them from her with a grimace. Ignoring the chips he unscrewed the cap from the water bottle and guzzled almost all of it at once. When he finished he opened his mouth to say something, but Chloe cut him off.

"Now the chips."

He glared at her.

"Eat."

Eyes locked on her, he irritably ripped open the bag of chips and ate one. He swallowed. "Happy?"

She nodded, moving to leave him.

Oliver almost growled he was so frustrated. "Can you really not even look at me?"

She turned to face him. "I am looking at you."

"But you don't like it," he challenged, staring deep into her eyes, trying to find the answer he was looking for somewhere in there. Why didn't she want him?

"You're right," she said quietly, turning away again and going to pour herself more coffee. "Eat the chips," she said at the exact moment he was starting to set the bag of chips aside.

"You know, I don't appreciate you ordering me around like this."

There was a pause. "I'm sorry."

He was surprised by how easy that had been, having expected some sort of sarcastic comeback. Fighting with Chloe was easy. This wasn't fighting, though. He wasn't really sure _what_ they were doing.

She glanced over at him, her chest aching. She hadn't been lying. She really had thought for one horrible moment that he was dead...that she'd gotten him killed.

Oliver caught the expression and it confused him even more. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Her eyes darted away uncertainly. "I'm just glad you're okay." She couldn't say how scared she'd been. Her eyes closed in an attempt to shut the feeling out. For a few awful moments she'd felt like she'd lost everything that ever mattered to her.

Oliver studied her before giving into his frustration. "Damn it, Chloe. What the hell?"

She looked up at him, startled.

"What is it about me that you just refuse to even consider the idea?"

Her mouth opened in confusion.

"I don't get it! Fill me in, Chloe. You obviously care about me on some level. Why is it such an awful idea to have an actual relationship with me? I mean, it's not like we were just fuck buddies or something. We were too good of friends for that and we had too much history for that. There were strings attached from the beginning whether you recognized them or not. So what's so wrong with me? How can you stand there and tell me you don't have feelings for me?"

"I--I--" Chloe stammered, not sure how to explain it to him. When she'd said she couldn't, she'd never expected him to construe it like that, like there was something wrong with _him_. "Oliver, I can't believe I haven't got a better way to say this, but it's not you, it's me."

He stared at her.

"I told you," she whispered pleadingly, "I've got nothing to offer you, Ollie. I don't have anything left to give."

And finally her words took their proper meaning in his mind. "Oh, Chloe," he looked at her in mortification, "Chloe, no. You don't have to--no. Why would--God, no." He rose from the couch, slowly this time, bracing himself for a wave of nausea that fortunately didn't come. He approached her cautiously, afraid she would bolt. "Oh, Chloe, I don't want you to rip yourself apart for me," he told her. "I just want you to let me in a little bit. Maybe give you some of me." He reached up tentatively to tuck her hair behind her ear.

With those words, Chloe's body shook as she took a shuddering breath and collapsed into him, sobbing. He wrapped his arms around her, wondering how she could ever have thought he would let her get hurt, before realizing that every relationship she'd ever had had done nothing but tear away at her, giving her nothing in return. He held her more tightly still, clutching her to his chest as if she'd vanish if he let go. When he said he wanted more, he'd meant he wanted to give her more, not take more from her. "Chloe," he said softly, "please."

But she was still crying, still whispering over and over, "I can't. I just can't." His instinct was to argue, to tell her that she could or that she should try, but he knew it wouldn't help. He tilted her chin up to make her look at him, and he cupped her face in his hands, wiping the tear stains away with his thumbs.

"But I can," he told her, leaning in to kiss her. The reaction was instant. What had been little over a month felt more like years as they realized how much just their lips alone had missed each other. Chloe trembled into the kiss, and she finally realized that it had been even harder on her and more painful for her to try to stay away from him. She'd been ignoring what she really needed.

"Oh, God, I missed you," Oliver whispered against her mouth.

"I missed you, too," she confessed, eyes still closed.

"Look at me," he said, pulling back slightly. Her eyes opened. "I will not ask any more than you can give, okay? And I won't take anything without giving anything back. I know you've been hurt. We both have. But that doesn't mean that it has to be the same way with us."

There was that word, the one that made her want to run for the hills: 'Us.'

He saw the panic threatening her. "I'm not letting you run again."

She didn't respond.

"I know you're scared, and I'm sorry I didn't figure that out before, but I promise no matter what happens I won't leave. Maybe it won't work, but I won't leave. We'll go back to being friends."

Chloe wasn't even sure friendship was possible after this.

"Come on, Sidekick, you know I'm stubborn enough to pull it off."

Finally, she nodded, and Oliver released a breath of air he hadn't realized he'd been holding. He kissed her forehead and then her nose and then her lips again.

"Do you know I almost went to Antarctica over you?" he joked, resting his forehead against hers.

She giggled wearily. "Antarctica?"

"Mmhmm. So don't ever walk out on me like that again."

"What on earth is in Antarctica?"

"I don't know. Penguins?"

"How would penguins have helped?"

"Do you really think I was being logical?"

"Well I'm just trying to figure out why you'd go to Antarctica."

"You ask too many questions."

"So shut me up."

Oliver obliged, figuring he'd walked right into that one.


End file.
